


If We Could Only Turn Back Time

by winterschild



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Cancer, Character Death, Heavy Angst, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, I'm Sorry, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Mentions of Cancer, Sad, Sad with a Happy Ending, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Why Did I Write This?, not descriptive, technically
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:20:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25577221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winterschild/pseuds/winterschild
Summary: Moments AUIf you've listened to the song, you know what happens.I'm so sorry.  Please read.~Back in the day, I wrote this for class and I took it in 2020 and updated it a bit.  I'm sorry.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 2
Kudos: 25





	If We Could Only Turn Back Time

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vegastarkblack](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vegastarkblack/gifts).



Louis slammed the door to the Porsche, using his coat to shield himself from the pouring rain as he rushed inside. The front door was unlocked when he threw it open, letting it hit the wall behind it on the opposite side, but he’d have to worry about the hole it left later. He was quick to kick off his shoes, knowing that Harry would be pissed at him if he tracked in mud onto their expensive rugs. He shed the coat from his shoulders, dropping the wet material to the floor where it splattered water droplets on the marble. 

He kept a quick pace as he moved up the stairs and down the main corridor to where the master bedroom was. Just as he approached the door, Niall was walking out and shutting it gently. The Irish boy jumped when he saw the Doncaster man in front of him, wide red eyes rimmed with tears. Louis made sure to take in how wet his cheeks were, and how he didn’t have his normal smile on his face. Instead, his eyes were a cloudy, dark blue and his lips seemed to be in a permanent frown—stark difference from his usual expression.

Niall’s voice was rough, but he managed a broken, “Hi, Lou.” Louis just nodded, throat closing at the tone of his best mate. Louis had already felt the pressure build behind his eyes the entire drive here from his sister Lottie’s flat, but standing in front of Niall in his own home, the tears made their way to the surface.

“Ho—How is he, Niall?” That was a stupid question. He knew how he was. That was why Niall had called him and asked him to come home.

Niall just shook his head, clearly having an internal struggle. Louis knew how he felt. Niall whispered, “He’s comfortable, Lou.” Louis admired Niall’s strength in this moment because Louis was breaking down fast. Louis hadn’t even realized the first tear had fallen until Niall had reached forward to brush it away. “I said my goodbyes. Liam was by earlier with Zayn. Do you need anything else from me for now, Tommo? Want me to wait around?”

Louis shook his head quickly, eyes downcast to his shoes as to avoid crying in front of Niall. He croaked, “No. Go home. Sleep. Thank you for staying with him while I got some things figured out.”

Niall stepped into Louis’ space, pulling him close to his chest and just stroking his back. “Anything for you two, Lou. Anything.” He pulled away, sending Louis a sad smile before walking past him and down the hall. Louis watched his form fade down the stairs, leaving him alone in this moment. 

Fuck.

Louis reached forward, twisting the knob slowly and letting the door open with a creak. The bedside light was on, it being the only thing providing light in the bedroom. He saw the figure of his boyfriend in their bed on his side, buried under a mound of blankets.

Despite his earlier rush to get here, he slowed down, gently shutting the door and letting it latch. He walked to his side of the bed, reaching over to turn the light off, letting the room sink into darkness. He wanted to be with Harry in this moment—just feel his love. He lifted up the duvet on his side of the bed and climbed in beside Harry, wrapping his arm around the fragile man.

His fiancé jumped at the sudden touch, probably too tired to realize that Louis had entered the room where had Niall left. Harry laid on his back, looking over his shoulder only to send a soft smile to his love.

“Hi, sunflower,” said Harry quietly. His voice was scratchy and low, but Louis didn’t care—he just wanted to listen to his voice until the end.

Louis smiled back, attempting to hide the fear in his expression from Harry. “Baby, you look even more beautiful.” The smaller man reach forward, running his hand through the short curls on top of Harry’s head. His curls were as soft as they were when they had met fifteen years previous in the X-Factor toilet. Louis’ heart was beating harder as he listened to the clock above the mantel tick, filling the silence of the room. He slowly brought his trembling hand to Harry’s face, fingers dragging down the soft cheek where a dimple was popped. He ignored how cold the skin was as he stared into the greens of Harry’s eyes; once so bright green and so full of life, they were now dull and hazy. For the last time, green met blue.

“Oh, sun, please don’t cry,” begged Harry, who used all his strength to reach over and catch the tears that had fallen from Louis’ crystal blue eyes. “No one as beautiful as you should ever cry, love.” Louis just nodded, knowing if he were to speak, the tears would start and wouldn’t stop. He was so choked up and it made it so much harder as he held in his tears. Louis moved his eyes to look at the time, seeing it was coming up onto 11:00 PM, but he somehow knew they wouldn’t get one more day together.

“Do you remember, Lou, meeting?”

Louis chuckled, pulling Harry closer to his body. “I do remember, baby. You weed on my brand new Toms in the toilets of Old Trafford.”

“It was an accident.” Harry laughed, but it turned into a cough shortly after, and another pang hit Louis’ heart. “I was just so distracted by your beauty, Louis. If it’s anyone’s fault, it’s yours for looking so beautiful.”

Louis rolled his eyes, “Sure, blame me as always, H.” Comfortable silence fell between them again, but it was impossible for Louis to bear. “If we could only turn back time.”

Harry hummed. “What would you change?”

“Management. I wouldn’t have let them stop us from being in love. Wouldn’t have waited so long to come out. Wouldn’t have spent as much time with Eleanor and spent that time with you instead.”

“All valid things to change,” whispered Harry, eyes glossy and unfocused. “I don’t think I’d change anything. All those things lead me to this moment—with you and me.”

Louis looked at him, sad eyes round and wide. “You wouldn’t change anything, H?”

Harry scrunched his nose and looked to Louis. “How they treated you. How everyone treated you. Management. My fans. The industry. Me. All I ever wanted was for you to be happy, Lou.”

A tear drop fell to the pillow beneath them, but Louis ignored it and let them run as he admitted, “You make me happy, H. You always have and you always will. You’re my everything.”

For the first time since they had gotten the news, Louis watched as tears built up in Harry’s eyes and his bottom lip began to quiver. “I can’t be your everything, Lou. I won’t be here to be your everything.”

“Oh, none of that, baby.” He reached forward to hold Harry’s chin. “You don’t need to be here to be my everything. I have always and will always live for both of us. You’ll always be my life, my voice, and my reason to be. My love and my heart is all for you, baby.”

“That’s not fair to you, Lou. You—you have to move on. You have to find someone who will be there.”

“Don’t,” Louis stopped closing his eyes. “Don’t ask that of me, H. I can’t. I—I can’t.” Silence, for only a minute. “I remember when we went to Jamaica together in 2016. Right before we broke up. That was one of the happiest times of my life. Getting to be there and watch you write music that you wanted to write. Listen to you grow and become a real man. Even if we weren’t perfect, I knew that eventually we—you and me—we’d be okay.”

“How about when yours and Eleanor’s contract ended?”

“Oh, you mean when you hopped around stage screaming ‘I Will Survive’ like you had just won the lottery?” 

“Yeah, I had. It was our first chance at being free,” laughed Harry lowly. “Definitely top five best moments of my life.”

Louis studied the man in his arms. “What’s your other top four?”

“Winning my first Grammy—that was something.” Louis loved that moment; he remembered it so clearly. It was after they had come out, so Louis got to be there, seated next to Anne and Gemma, with a massive smile on his face. “And probably performing with Ronnie Wood—thank you for that moment, by the way. I don’t know if I actually thanked you. My thoughts are a little fuzzy.”

“You thanked me, love,” admitted Louis worriedly. However, he ignored the pang in his gut to lean over and kiss Harry’s forehead. “What else, baby?”

“Getting put into One Direction.” That was an obvious one. “I thought I had lost my chance at my dreams when they sent me home, Lou. But I didn’t. I just got an even better one I didn’t even know I had.”

“And what about your last one, darling?”

“Meeting you.”

Louis stayed quiet, knowing tears would start again if he spoke. Instead, he just leaned down to kiss Harry’s cold lips and whispered, “I love you.” Harry repeated the words back slowly, taking in the moment.

“Do you think it’ll hurt, Lou? Dying?”

The Doncaster man shook his head, not knowing how to respond. 

“I’m terrified, Louis.” Everything halted in that moment—all of Louis’ emotions and the ticking of the clock all stopped because Harry had never told him this. When the doctors told them it was cancer, Harry cried. When they told him that it wasn’t curable and the only thing they could do was make him comfortable, he took it with strength and never showed fear. He was always cracking jokes that he’d get to keep his hair until the end. Louis never found those jokes funny.

But now, watching tears slowly fall down Harry’s cheeks in front of him, _terrified_ , Louis was frozen.

“I don’t want to leave you, Louis. I wanted to marry you and have kids together and live a life with you. I wanted to watch you raise our boys to play footy just like you and pray they didn’t end up with my coordination. I wanted to watch you raise our daughters to be as strong and confident as you are, and teach them how to defend themselves around icky people. I wanted to—to be there for everything, watch them grow into whoever they wanted to be. Watch them wear what they wanted to wear and be in love with who they wanted to love.

“I wanted to dance with my mum at our wedding, Lou. And hold you close during our first dance as Ed serenaded us. But I won’t get to do that now.” A sob broke Louis from his state of shock, and he was quickly sitting up to pull the weak man into his chest tightly. He whispered sweet nothings and reassurance into his ear, letting him know it was all going to be okay.

Harry hiccupped, shaking his head and crying, “I won’t get to hear your new music, Lou. I’ll never get to hear your new songs and see your face when you walk onto the stage. I’m so sorry I won’t be there.”

“Please, don’t apologize, H. Please don’t apologize. We didn’t ask for this. This isn’t your fault.”

“I’m just so afraid to leave you, Lou. I don’t want to die.”

Louis was crying to because he didn’t want Harry to die either. He didn’t want to be alone.

Eventually Harry settled down and Louis looked at the clock again. 11:30 PM.

“I’m cold, Lou.” Louis held in his sob—it was 27◦ C in the house. They had started cranking up the heat months ago after the diagnosis. Louis just stood up and grabbed another blanket. He set it on top of the other three Harry was already covered in, climbing back in next to him and cuddling him close. “Thank you, sunflower.”

“Of course, my love.”

“Lou?”

“Yes, baby?”

“I love you. Thank you for letting me love you and loving me back.” 

Louis blinked back tears, shaking his head to ignore the clenching of his heart. “I love you too, Harry Styles. So much. I love you so much. Now, save your energy darling.” He listened to his breathing, paying attention to its rise and fall.

He heard a sharp intake and a slow release. “Haz?” Louis sat up, brushing his finger across Harry’s cheek. One tear fell. “Harry, love?” Another tear. “Harry, please, baby. Please.”

11:52 PM. He closed his eyes and let out a scream.

Louis closed the door, not caring if it latched shut, and threw his key on the side table that was right inside the door. He trudged inside, head hung low, moving towards the couch as he felt he was too tired to climb the stairs. He screwed his eyes shut, falling onto the couch and trying to block out the memories playing in his head.

He didn’t want to be reminded right now. Not when he had just buried the love of his life. Not when it officially hit him that he was alone. Louis reached up to the bottle of whiskey that was already opened on the coffee table. Sitting up, he took a swig—or rather a gulp—and swallowed it, not even feeling the burn as it went down his throat, too numb from the pain.

Standing from his sofa, he took another swig and ghosted to the curtains, pulling them closed so he didn’t have to be seen. When he turned around, he was hit by the sudden wave of grief, noticing everything that was just _Harry_. 

Harry chose the couch.

Harry wanted the lamp on that side table.

Harry was everywhere and he couldn’t get away.

Louis took another swig, noticing half the bottle had suddenly disappeared and he didn’t feel a thing. He stumbled through the living room and over to the back stairs, climbing them one by one, trying to avoid the pictures on the wall.

He entered their bedroom, looking at the moments that _Harry_ had left behind—how he was everywhere. Louis’ eyes landed on the picture of the two of them in Jamaica last year. Their smiles were wide and their eyes were bright. Their skin was tanned from the Jamaican sun and they were so happy. Louis had just gotten a fresh haircut because he hated going to warm places with long hair, but Harry’s was long and past his shoulders. It would be a couple months before he got it cut. It would be six before they learned that Harry was sick—dying. 

Louis clutched it tight between his shaking hand before throwing it at the wall, listening to it crash to the floor and glass shatter. Louis screamed. He screamed and screamed and screamed until his voice was numb. He didn’t think he had a voice left from how much he screamed these past few days. He turned around, slamming his fist into the wall and ignoring the burning sensation that broke around his knuckles. He took another drink, falling to the bed and looking over at the pain medication Harry was prescribed for his final days. It would make the pain of dying go away.

_Do you think it’ll hurt, Lou?_

Did it hurt? Did Louis spend the past fifteen years protecting Harry for him to be in pain when he died? Did he protect him enough?

Fuck.

Louis was in pain. This was pain. This was dying.

He reached over, picking up the near-empty bottle and shook it, guessing there was about seven or so left. His judgement was cloudy like the night sky—he hated everything. He hated the pain. He hated the feeling of missing Harry. It had only been a week, but it was a week too long without him.

This was nothing like past grief he experienced. He had people, of course. He still had Lottie and Daisy and Phoebe. He still had Niall and Liam. Even Zayn was there, but it wasn’t Harry. When his mum had passed or when Felicite had passed, Louis had Harry. Harry wasn’t here anymore and Louis was in _pain_.

He twisted open the cap, dropping a couple—or four—into his hands and knocking them back. Louis washed them down with the alcohol. He dropped the last three into his palm and threw those back as well, taking another swig and standing up, swaying slightly off balance.

He walked over to the balcony that was off their bedroom, walking into the cool night and letting the breeze hit his body. A sudden, sharp pain zapped his temple, causing his eyes to shut tightly and a hand to come flying up to his forehead. When he opened his eyes again, he saw Harry sitting on the bench with his guitar, strumming them lightly and bobbing his head—this can’t be real. This Harry was younger—twenty-one maybe. Hair long and face young. This Harry was humming ‘Sweet Creature,’ but a rough version of it. Louis remembered this day. It was the first day off they had gotten post Hiatus. He heard the French door slam and a twenty-four-year-old Louis move towards Harry, smile wide.

Louis reached out to touch, but another pain jolted his chest. His eyes shut again, but when they reopened, the memory was gone. A throbbing started in his head, Louis couldn’t quite focus on it. His vision began to blur, but he thinks it was from the tears in his eyes.

Louis closed his eyes again as another sharp pain stabbed behind his eyes. When he reopened them, a nineteen-year-old Harry and a twenty-two-year-old Louis walked up to the edge of the balcony opposite Louis. He heard them giggle, hands clutched tightly between them.

_“I think it’s perfect, sunflower. I mean, there’s so much room in the backyard and we can put a footy net up. Plenty of rooms for kids, ya?”_ Louis missed that voice—he knows it’s only been a week, but he misses it.

_“Anything for you, baby. If this is the house you want, then this is it.”_ They kissed and drifted away in the night, back to reality. Louis turned around to stare back into their bedroom, where the doors were still wide open to the king sized bed they shared. He shook his head because he swore he hadn’t left Harry’s clothes on the edge of the bed.

_“On the end of the bed, baby.”_ Oh. Right.

A twenty-nine-year-old Harry wandered in, head turning to look for his favourite sweater of Louis’ that he loved to steal. Louis had just finished the laundry because he knew the couple were heading up to Holmes Chapel to spend a week with Harry’s mum.

There were two stacks of clothes though—Harry picked up the wrong stack and out tumbled the ring that Louis was going to bring with him.

He watched as twenty-nine-year-old Harry bent down, studying the ring box before opening it and finding a stunning custom engagement ring. Louis watched as Harry’s tears fell, and he thinks his own had fallen.

_“Harry, what’s taking you so bloody long—fuck. Uh. Surprise.”_

Tears were streaming down Louis’ face and he stopped feeling everything. He turned back around and walked to the end of the balcony, placing his hands on the cool stone as he took in the night, asking the memories to stop playing in his head.

“Lou?”

His eyes snapped open because—that wasn’t a memory. That was Harry. And there he was: Beautiful, skin full of colour like it had been before he had really fallen ill. Muscles filled in and hair long and luscious.

Harry was frowning, brows furrowed. “Louis? What’s wrong? What are you doing?”

“I—I missed you, H. I—I can’t live without you. We always said two weeks but you’re not coming home in two weeks.”

“Louis. You have a life to live.”

“I don’t want to live it if you’re not here.”

Harry nodded his head, moving closer and placing his hand on Louis’ shoulder. “I love you, sunflower.”

“I love you, baby.” The smaller man backed away, feeling the nothingness come over him. He was standing close to the edge of darkness and then felt himself fall. He laughed, making a joke of it all—like this was always how it was supposed to be. Them. Together.

12:01 AM. 

Louis was going home.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know if you can really enjoy this, but if you did, let me know!
> 
> I wrote this for class about six years ago and never did anything with it. My friend and I were talking it and I was like--well, why not post it?
> 
> It is slightly updated to fit a few other things, but I hope you enjoyed it.
> 
> Again, I'm sorry. Feel free to drop a comment or kudos, or you can check out my other work that isn't nearly as sad! Thanks!
> 
> Stay safe, wash your hands, and treat people with kindness.
> 
> ~winterschild


End file.
